


The Minotaur

by vanillafluffy



Category: Criminal Minds, The Three Investigators | Die drei ??? - Various Authors
Genre: Dream Sex, M/M, Man/demigod sex, Masturbation, Non-Consensual fantasy, Porn With Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-11
Updated: 2015-06-11
Packaged: 2018-04-03 19:36:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4112512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanillafluffy/pseuds/vanillafluffy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spencer's subconscious is keeping him well-entertained tonight...maybe a little too well-entertained....</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Minotaur

**Author's Note:**

> Set Memorial Day weekend, a few weeks after 'Cherry Blossoms' and 'A Simple Family Dinner'.

When he thinks about it later, the roots of his dream are simple to see. The way his subconscious has knotted the strands together, though, is particularly intriguing

The BAU has just had a case at the Fort Worth stockyards—with actual corrals of pungent livestock, mostly bovine. On the flight home, Morgan starts teasing him about cowboys and Brokeback Mountain. Spence calmly says that he hasn't seen the movie, but he's read the novella, and goes on at such length about the symbolism of the shirt that Morgan retreats to the other end of the jet. 

Once he arrives home, Spence watches a documentary on archaeological discoveries at Knossos on Crete over dinner. He first read the relevant Greek myths as a child; supposedly, the palace at Knossos was the home of King Minos. He'd built a vast labyrinth to contain the Minotaur, half man, half bull, to whom young tributes were sacrificed.

He looks forward to the long Memorial Day weekend—Jupe arrives tomorrow and stays through Wednesday. Spence is approved for Tuesday off, barring acts of homicidal mayhem. He anticipates days and nights of his lover's company. Jupe's birthday was a couple weeks ago—he's a Taurus, not that Spence gives any serious credence to astrology—and belated celebration is on the calendar.

With all that simmering in his head, Spence dreams.

Stone walls surround him. In places they are carved granite blocks, in others, plastered…occasionally they’re decorated with frescos and mosaics. There are corners, hallways leading to dead ends. Square gaps in the wall lead to more twisting corridors.

With each oubliette he finds himself in, Spence's anxiety mounts. It doesn't help that he's barefoot, wearing only a long white tee-shirt. Oddly, it's belted with a thin strip of leather that doesn't seem like it can possibly support the huge "Viva Las Vegas" buckle.

Wind stirs the hairs on the back of his neck. From a distance comes the sound of hooves against stone, as if the sound is carried to him by the unsettling breeze...along with an earthy, animal odor.

Frantic to escape, he runs, the clop-clop coming ever closer.

He's tried to unravel his shirt, to use the thread to guide him through the maze, but he comes across broken lengths of cotton thread, one end without the other piece nearby. 

It's all gone, as if it was cotton candy. He's naked and vulnerable except for the belt. He brandishes the strap like a whip and the buckle is a now modest shield, the size of a dinner plate. 

Then he bolts into a room---it's another dead end, but when he turns around, the way out is gone. 

The walls are polished alabaster, perfectly smooth. The only object in the space is an oddly shaped block of alabaster.

He knows with absolute certainty that this is the altar where the tributes are sacrificed. Even though there are no visible bloodstains, he knows.

The approaching hooves are much closer, on the other side of the wall. 

This is nothing, he tries to tell himself. He's been up against monsters before. But this isn't just a monster, it's worshipped as a god, and he's got nothing, no gun, no back-up---

From where Spence stands, the entrance looks like a crack in the stone, but then the Minotaur appears. 

The fusion of man and beast towers over him---it's at least seven feet tall, topped by another foot of horns above the bull's head. And yet, it walks upright on human feet, though the sound of its passage is anything but. It has human hands at the end of muscular arms that have grown from vast, broad shoulders. 

It ought to be too top-heavy to walk upright, he thinks, but its thighs are muscled like tree trunks, and....

Spence is mesmerized by the sight of the phallus jutting from the Minotaur's loins. It’s impossibly huge, like a knobby fist on a gnarled forearm—in scale with the massive creature wielding it.

Although he flails weakly at the monster with the strap, the Minotaur plucks it from his hand and casts it down. 

He flings the buckle-shield like a Frisbee; the logical corner of his mind recalls the old cliché of the bad guys throwing their guns at Superman after their bullets bounce off him. It's equally futile.

Every time the Minotaur takes a step, Spence takes a step back. He has to get away. Where's that entrance? He can't tell, he's locked eyes with the Minotaur, trying not to show how utterly terrified he is.

Something solid comes into contact with the backs of his thighs, and Spence realizes the Minotaur has herded him against the altar.

It gives a snort of satisfaction, moving closer.

When his butt cheeks slide into a hollow in the cool stone that seems made to cradle them, he knows how he's going to be sacrificed...not gored by its horns, but speared by the upthrust column of its cock-flesh.

Spence can't help trying to back away, which bends him into a slanted stone trough that holds him in place.

In a flash, the Minotaur seizes his ankles, lifting them high, spreading his legs...phallus sliding between them….

Looking down at it, it extends from the Minotaur's pelvis and juts to a point slightly past Spence's navel. Spence knows he won’t survive this, no one could. And agonizing is a mild world for the pain that thing is going to cause.

It gloats for a moment, then draws back and lunges forward.

He must be in shock, because it doesn't really hurt...the Minotaur grunts and thrusts again and again, each stroke sending a fresh wave of sensation echoing from Spence's core. 

The Minotaur emits guttural noises as it ruts above him. The sound excites him, his own cock rising in puny tribute. This sacrifice is no sacrifice, he thinks, staring up at the Minotaur's silhouette. It's an honor to be taken by the bull. It's bliss...Spence whimpers in ecstasy as it impales him. 

Harder and faster, he’s pinned against the altar, heels barely level with the beast’s armpits, his ankles still clutched by its meaty hands. He’s spread wide—he’s at its mercy, and it has none.

The pleasure is unbearable. Each ramming of the Minotaur’s cock lifts him nearer the brink. It bellows at its own climax

Spence wakes, thrashing in a tangle of sheets. He grabs his cock, milking the last spurts of ejaculate from his spasming balls. 

That was bizarre. Understandable, given the last few days, but…still weird. Spence hasn’t had a nocturnal emission since he was 14—and that had involved Albert Einstein and an abacus, and they’d been fully clothed.

***


End file.
